


This One Goes Out To The One I Love

by greenapple



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-10-26
Updated: 2007-10-26
Packaged: 2017-11-26 19:22:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/653589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenapple/pseuds/greenapple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ellen taught Jo all she knows.  The Winchesters were never hunters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This One Goes Out To The One I Love

She walked into the dark of the garage and let out a loud whistle. “Timing belt’s broke.”

He looked sideways out at her from under the hood of someone’s old Tbird. One behind the wheel revved the engine, and he hollered, “Wayne, turn the fuckin engine off!”

She waited for the sound to die down. Stared at him staring back at her. “I’d have done it myself, have you order me a new one, but not with a busted arm I can’t.” She didn’t show him the sling. He could see it from where he was looking.

He stepped out from behind the hood and looked out into the lot. At her pickup, where she’d left it. At her. He wiped his hands in his shirt, raised one eyebrow. “That yours?”

She walked out, dog tired, her arm still paining her some. She shouted over her shoulder: “Don’t overtighten it.” Heard Wayne chuckling, and the one with ‘Dean’ stitched on his pocket, call out, mouth full of sass, “Yes, ma’am.”

–

She’s pulling up her hair, bunching it in her fist, rubber band between her teeth.

“What do you do?” he says.

“Oh. This and that.” She plucks out the rubber band, wraps her hair inside it. Over her raised arm, she watches her eyes in the mirror. His shaving things; a photograph stood up against the glass. The reflection of him, bare skin in the bad light a rusted-out metal color. “Travel around a lot, looking for work.”

“Like what, day labor? You do construction?”

“Yeah, sometimes,” she says. “Whatever I can find.”

His voice goes quiet. “Lot a guns.”

She looks quick at him, but he’s still sprawled out easy on his bed. She can see both his hands. “Yep,” she answers.

“So… What-“

“My own business.”

“Yes ma’am.” He’s smiling, now. Smiling like he means it, like he gets her. He don’t know shit, but he’s a good kid.

She turns back to the mirror, to the photo of the boy: high school probably, with a beer in his hand, leaning on the front of this one’s car.

“That’s my kid brother,” he says, even though she didn’t ask. Funny thing about men. They like to pretend women are the chatty ones, the loose ones. Get one alone, though, and he falls right open.

“He’s in college, now.” And she can tell he’s proud of him. But angry, too. Probably he doesn’t even know he’s jealous. She thunks his hollow floor with the heel of her boot coming down. Bends to work the laces.

“Yeah,” he says. Says it like she was begging for him to go on, like he’s only talking about it to do her a favor. “Out in California, gonna be a fuckin lawyer, if you can believe that shit.” He probably never been farther than Wichita. Giving away all his secrets. Still, she finds herself liking him more for it.

She dodges his hands and lifts her jacket from his bedpost. She knows he went through it while she was on the toilet. She never leaves anything in pockets she doesn’t want to get found.

“Well,” she says.

He cups himself, gives his dick a tug. Growing big in his hand. “You can’t stay a few more minutes?” Teasing her, but trying to hide how much he means it.

She thinks about last night, this morning. The arm had given him some trouble, trying to be gentle with her, until she’d pushed him away and turned around, one hand on his wall. “Pants,” she said, and he knew what to do after that.

Her cunt, greedy bitch, wants her to stay. But she’s got a trail to follow, a solid lead, and it calls her away. Excites her more deeply than pretty boys with soft hands and dirty fingernails. She can stop later for gas, do some quick maintenance in the ladies room, or the cab of her truck off the highway somewhere.

“Nope,” she says. Tired of the sling; both hands in her pockets today. Driving will be a bitch, but it’ll be worth it. It’s always worth it. “Got to go.”

“Okay.” He closes his eyes, lash shadows long on his cheeks. “Don’t mind me.” He pulls himself tight around the root so he’s taut and solid, pointing straight up, ready to ride. When she doesn’t say anything, he bounces it at her, and wags his eyebrows.

Men, she thinks. She gives his hair a ruffling, and he leans into it, probably without even thinking. Civilian, she reminds herself, and the ache in her is sudden and too painful. “Got to go,” she tells him, but kindly. Kisses his forehead and twists out of his hands.

She steps down off his steps; her breath on the sharp air, and the soft and shallow clatter of the screen door behind her.


End file.
